All Sam/Dean, All The Time

Fic: It'll Take Four Trips (Sam/Dean, R) Part 2 of 2

so he looks up to see Jack’s expression change from one of joy to hate. And that’s on him, he made that happen. Dean now looks horrified, which is maybe better than blank. Sam’s about ready to face plant in the little pond, just to get all the itchy sticky blood off his skin. He’s been drenched in his own blood before, the scar on his back pulsing as a reminder. Then he hears a breath being drawn in quickly as Dean is putting together what’s happened. And who knows what he’s come up with, but Sam doesn’t care because Dean is holding him and burying his face in neck, not minding the blood.

Whispering lips moving against his neck so that only he can hear. “Sammy, I don’t care what happened. All that matters to me is that you’re here. That you came back to me.”

Sam holds him tighter then, not caring that Jack is having to deal with meeting Lucifer for the first time. Hopefully Cas will pitch in with keeping them civil.

Mary’s hand glances his shoulder briefly. “I’m glad you’re okay, Sam.” She smiles at him, confused but still trying to be happy about his appearance, at least he’s alive.

“You are okay, right?” Dean asks, lips still plastered against his neck. Sam’s surprised that Dean’s still holding him in front of all these people.

“Yeah, I’m better actually. He said he fixed me inside when he brought me back.”

“I don’t want to hear any bragging out of you since you’ve been resurrected by an angel one more time than me,” Dean says, finally pulling back to look up into Sam’s face. There are red tracks of tears on one side of his face all smeared around from Dean’s tears washing away Sam’s blood. Sam wipes at the redness, wanting his blood off of his brother’s precious beautiful face immediately.

“I’m so sorry I brought him here. He didn’t really give me a choice,” Sam says, looking away when new tears spring from his brother’s eyes. He can’t watch Dean cry over his failure.

Dean’s grip on him tightens and he feels it to his bones when Dean lightly shakes him. “Are you serious right now? Cut that shit out, it’s not your fault. Don’t do that to yourself, please, Sammy.”

Sam doesn’t know what to say, he won’t lie, not about something like this, but he doesn’t want Dean to worry. “I’ll try, Dean,” he murmurs just loud enough for Dean to hear. Dean closes his eyes as if he’s memorizing Sam’s face when he says these words. It’s enough, given the expression that’s now on Dean’s face. Joy isn’t an adequate word. It just isn’t, and Sam hopes his expression is saying the same sort of thing to his brother.

Jack is just out of view, head bent towards Cas as they both eye Lucifer warily. He steps away and walks towards them. Dean lets go of Sam with one hand and pulls Jack in between them. The brothers wrap their arms around each other and the young man who is so much like their son.

“He’s been kicking ass and takin’ names here, Sammy. You should be proud of him,” Dean says, full to bursting with this weird parental pride that totally suits him.

“I can’t say it, Sam. The words I have aren’t enough,” Jack says, rubbing his face against Sam’s shoulder like the world’s biggest house cat.

“I know, Jack, it’s okay. I’m here now and that’s what counts, right?” Sam asks, rubbing a hand across Jack’s back in what he hopes comes across as comforting. He wants to break down and just cry at how good it feels to have a family hug like this, but then he sees Mary standing alone watching the three of them with a speculative tilt of her head. Sam gestures for her to come over. They enfold her in the family hug that he and Dean had been striving to have for months. It only lasts a few more moments though because she pulls away almost immediately.

“We’ve got to get our plan together now that we have all these angels on our side. It changes everything that we’ll be able to achieve,” Mary says, obviously the person in command. “I’ll be back.”

Dean looks like he wants to pull her back into the tight family circle, but he defers to her, watches her walk away from them once again, always the dutiful eldest son. But he doesn’t take his arm away from around Sam’s waist, in fact Dean pulls him in a tad closer.

“Jack, I have to tell you what happened before we do anything else. Lucifer, he brought me back from being dead. He fixed me up on the inside too, I’m feeling stronger than I did before. But he did it to have leverage over you, he thought you’d be more likely to be open to having some kind of a father-son relationship with him,” Sam says, looking down at his feet in shame.

“Sam, why are you feeling shame over this? It wasn’t as if he gave you a choice, and he would have found me here without you. I have no space in my heart for him, not one that I would call father, because that is filled already with you and Dean.”

Sam looks over at Dean sharply, loving the chance to see surprise morph into even more joy flitting across his brother’s beautiful face. How different this would have been when they first had Jack, before Dean had come around, but now they have this ultimately powerful being thinking of them as father figures. It’s all kinds of wild. Maybe it was the only way they were ever going to have a chance at fatherhood, however odd it is, it suits Dean to the proverbial T.

“Do you want me to come with you while you talk to him?” Sam asks.

“No, Sam, you need to stay away from him, he’s gotten enough of your time and attention. He doesn’t deserve a second more. Not after what he did to you, bringing you back to life doesn’t just cancel that all out. Castiel will accompany me.”

“I should go with you then,” Dean says, beginning to pull away from Sam.

“No, Dean, stay with Sam, he needs you right now, just like you need him,” Jack says, smiling at them both in turn. “It’s really really the best thing to see you two together again. The whole time I’ve been here, I was hoping you’d stay away and keep yourselves safe, but I must be selfish and admit it. I’m glad you’re here, it makes it seem possible to win now.”

They keep holding onto each other as Jack walks away from them, their quasi-son who doesn’t know any better than to look up to them like he does.

“Think he’ll be okay with Lucifer?” Dean asks.

“Honestly, I’d be more worried about Lucifer. Can you feel the power coming off of him?” Sam asks.

“Yeah, he’s definitely tapped into his superpowers since we last saw him. Mom says he’s able to kill angels with a thought.”

Sam whistles at how impressive that is and goes along with where Dean pulls him. They duck into a dirty canvas tent and pull the flaps closed behind them. Dean manhandles him around until Sam is lying back on a slightly damp smelling bedroll. Dean looms over him, blotting out the waning light of the day, eyes glittering in the dimness with everything still unsaid.

They’ve never really talked to Mary about their unconventional relationship, assuming that she’d probably figured it out, that it was a big part of the reason why she’d left them. And now she’ll know for sure, based on Dean’s reaction just now, and them disappearing into this tent together. Sam wants to ask, to make sure his brother is thinking clearly about the possible ramifications. But then Dean moves his hips just so, aligning them perfectly, just like he’s always been able to. He’s blindingly hard in that instant, feeling how much Dean wants him, wants them. Feeling Dean’s answering hardness through all the layers of their clothing, he realizes that Dean doesn’t care about Mary or anyone else just then, he only cares about them, And that’s what does it for Sam, makes him come hot and hard and fast, grabbing at Dean’s ass, pulling him in roughly, wanting to make him lose it too.

Dean starts chanting his name, like a prayer, like a hosanna of thanks, Sam watches his face change as the lust and desire spiral up between them. With one last drawn-out Sammy he finally stutters to a stop, his hips stopping their churn and punch. Sam grapples him down so they can finally kiss, long and hard, tainted by the copper of his blood that’s still coming off his skin with all the sweat. Dean licks the side of his face and makes a ridiculous yummy noise.

“I’m so disgusting right now, I wish we could skinny dip in that pond out there,” Sam says.

“Too many people around, and we’re in the middle of a war zone,” Dean reminds him. “C’mon, sleep now,” Dean says, rearranging himself so that he’s big-spooning Sam.

***

Sam dreams of the Cage then, about walking out of it, a free man. He dreams about leaving Lucifer and Michael and Adam behind without a second glance or a word exchanged. Walking out of the depths of Hell to appear at the door of the Bunker. He doesn’t have a key so he has to knock and wait. Dean finally opens the door but won’t let him in at first, suspicious of his surprising return. He wakes up because Dean is splashing holy water and borax in his face, but thankfully no, it was just a dream.

They’re still lying together in their tent, still wrapped around each other at least three times. The I’ll-never-see-you-again trauma of the past few days still a pulsing live thing between them. This bit of privacy feels precious, hidden as they are from all the curious stares of Mary’s camp of rag-tag fighters, and all the angels they’d brought with them from their world.

Dean doesn’t need to say it, Sam can feel the ache of the fear, the loss his brother has had to survive during the hours they had been separated. It’s all in the way Dean is still holding onto him, how his hands haven’t left his body once since he first hugged him. He knows that feeling too well, all those Tuesdays permanently taught him that lesson.

“Maybe I’ll stay there the fourth time around,” Sam says into the fraught silence.

“Stay where?” Dean asks, the sleepy hesitance in his voice makes Sam hard all over again.

“Heaven, but only if you’re with me, it’s pretty boring there without you,” Sam says, knowing it’s really fucking cheesy, but sometimes that’s what needs to be said between them.